Third person pov
The last place Noah ever thought he'd find himself was standing in front of the Whitmore building, staring up at its glass towers as if they were unreachable. He had never belonged to this world, not then, not now. Back when he was with Belle, she had been the one holding everything together, working three jobs just to keep the lights on and food on the table. She was the fighter, the dreamer, the one who believed in building something out of nothing. He, on the other hand, had only been trying to keep up with his writing hoping to impress a few publishers who'd be interested. And in the end, he hadn't really don't anything much. Or had he?
Now here he was, hands damp, heart pounding, wondering if it was too late to make things right.
